


When the Leaves Fall in Autumn

by scribbles_in_the_margins (orphan_account)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark Sides As Family (Sanders Sides), Fae & Fairies, Fae Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Fae Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Happy Ending, Human Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Human Deceit | Janus Sanders, Implied Murder, Kid Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Kid Deceit | Janus Sanders, Light Angst, Minor Character Death, Moral Ambiguity, Parent Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Past Child Abandonment, Past Child Abuse, Sympathetic Sides (Sanders Sides), and also doesn't take kindly to child abusers or parents who abandon their kids, as in remus is a fae, but it doesn't actually happen, just so people know where we're heading, mention of fae eating children, mentions of animal and child death but no actual deaths, this is actually more soft parent remus than it is anything else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29121708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/scribbles_in_the_margins
Summary: Remus is not one to interact with humans.There's a first time for everything.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders
Comments: 18
Kudos: 90





	1. Crying Out

The leaves curl underneath his feet, different shades of red and yellow and brown scattered along the forest floor. It’s the middle of autumn, where the effects of summer have fallen away; where flowers wilt and trees lose their leaves and the winds bite, and the many animals of the forest either hide away or leave (or die, if the previous options aren’t available to them and they can’t survive the harsh chill of winter), leaving room for new, fuzzier creatures to take their place.

It’s the season of things not-quite-dying-but-something-close-to-it, of fading, where he and other members of his court are at their strongest, something he makes a point of shoving in his brother’s face whenever he can. It’s the season where people are forced to face the fact that nothing lasts and everyone and everything has a clock that’s ticking, and though it’s not up soon, it will be one day. Eventually.

Usually, this is something he relishes in. Something he enjoys—celebrates, even. Death is just as important as life, after all, and important things deserved to be celebrated.

Remus stares down at the small bundle cushioned in the leaf pile resting at his feet, soft, muffled cries piercing his ears. The sound leaves a sour taste in his mouth and a cold ache in his chest, something he stubbornly tries to shove down into his very core.

Today, he finds no enjoyment in the autumn wind that blows passed him, stray leaves skipping along the bundled child’s lap and rustling as they skid along the forest floor. He finds no enjoyment in the way the child’s cheeks and lips are the entirely wrong color and their voice is hoarse, weak, from screaming. He finds no enjoyment in the thought that they might die out here, left behind by whatever cruel and thoughtless humans abandoned them.

In fact, all Remus finds boiling under the surface of his skin is nothing but rage.

A feeling that gets shoved down just as quickly as the cooling ache that had assaulted his heart just moments before.

This…this is something he’s unprepared for. He’s entirely out of his element.

And Remus _hates_ it.

Shade from the branches overhead casts over him, cool and welcoming, almost bending around his too-still form with a sense of questioning that asks him, _why do you stand here? What bothers you so?_

He wishes he knew.

The child cries out, and he thinks that maybe he _almost_ knows, the answer buried somewhere in their wails, but it’s nothing he can decipher. It’s not anything he’s ever experienced before.

Faintly, he thinks that his brother had described something similar to this in the past. Some Summer or Spring thing, a compulsion of sorts, a pull towards human children to dance and to play and to keep. Not out of a sense to love or hold, but just to have.

This. This is not _quite_ that.

But he can’t imagine it being far off.

Remus can’t move, spelled to the spot like he is, but he feels like he is. Not so much moving forward, but still moving—somewhere. In place, maybe. Vibrating beyond his control.

And then the child cries again, hoarser and weaker than before, desperate in a way they hadn’t been before, and he has a fleeting thought of _if I don’t do something they’re going to die_.

The Autumn in him questions why that matters to him.

The soul-crushing pain in his chest is answer enough.

Slowly, Remus bends down and collects the child in his arms, startling when he realizes how much heavier they are when compared to a fae child. And so _small_ —with them held this close, he can see that the bundle of blankets hides their true size, covering up such a tiny, frail little babe underneath, tears leaking from a pair of violet eyes that feel unnatural for a human child but still too human to be any indication of something supernatural.

It’s…odd. Odd just like everything else about them that affects him the way they do.

Remus holds them to his chest, swaying, caught between turning towards home and running into the human village to burn it to the ground.

But then the child in his arms quiets down, its cries fading into what he can only think to describe as gurgling, and his rational thought catches up with the severity of the situation and the fact that he’s wasted enough time and needs to do something _now_.

So, human shielded in his arms, Remus goes home.

He thinks, if they are to survive, that they’ll stay no more than a day, maybe two, before he can find humans that are willing to take them in.

But, though the child survives, Remus is proven very, very wrong.

Because they do stay those first two days.

It just so happens that they don’t _leave_ once those first couple of days are up.

(And it is true, that autumn brings about the end of summer—but it brings about something new, a change, a place for winter to plant its roots and bloom.

(And Autumns, much like their season, are very, very prone to change.

(Remus is about to find this out the hard way.)


	2. Reaching Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus doesn't have any luck finding the human child a new home. Roman talks to him about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated the tags because of this chapter! Warning for mentions of murder (of background/minor characters) and a quick mention of fae eating human children (but no actual eating!), just so people aren't caught off guard.

Remus tries. Oh, he tries, tries in a way he’s never done before, searching for a suitable home for the child.

He just doesn’t expect it to be so _difficult_.

Not that he has a lot of options to choose from, given that there’s only a handful of human settlements surrounding the forest and Remus already has a distaste for humans. But he’d still gone, still _looked_ , watching to see if there would be anyone who’d be a good match for the babe (which he can’t figure out why that matters so much to him in the first place). But humans are selfish and loud and cruel, and no matter where he turns he always finds something, something to pick at, something to gripe about, and that’s just not something he’s going to settle for. The child’s been abandoned once—he’s not about to let it happen again, let alone something worse.

But as his search comes to a close and his options start to dwindle down, he realizes that there aren’t any humans _at all_ he’d rather hand the child over to. That there’s nowhere for the babe to go, nobody for him to turn to.

And well, that just about settles that, doesn’t it?

(Though, he _does_ find the child’s original parents. It’s almost by chance, really, though he can’t say he’s too shocked considering he didn’t expect them to just leave their home once they’d discarded the child.

(He’d made quick work of them and their home, wooden walls rotten and twisted around their sunken frames—and yeah, maybe it was a bit petty of him, burying them in leaves and wrapping their bodies in dead tree roots so that even their corpses would never see the light of day again, but he’s not known for being discreet with his revenge, and he doesn’t plan to start now.

(He does feel a bit vindicated, though, when the next time he spies on the humans he finds them avoiding the ruined home, walking far away from its shadow and broken structures as though a fae’s wrath is something contagious.

(He doesn’t have the heart to change their minds. If anything, he thinks it’s funny.)

Oh, well—back to the drawing board it is.

“Human babies won’t die if they’re given fae food, right?”

“I don’t think he’s old enough to chew.”

“I meant fae food that he can _drink_ , Ro. I’m not a _complete_ idiot.”

His brother watches him as he adjusts the fussing baby in his arms, a thin frown spread across his usually-sunny expression as Remus lightly bounces him. He hums. “Maybe not,” he admits, though the way his nails dig into his arms tells the other that he’s only just convinced enough to be able to say it. “It’s not like you’ve killed him yet—which I’m honestly surprised by, considering your tendency to kill for sport.”

“Aw, you say that like as if you’ve never gotten your hands dirty,” Remus giggles, hand reaching up to cover his face. A pleased glint shines in his eyes. “I’m not the only one who’s participated in a hunt, you know.”

Roman’s eyes narrow into slits, his nostrils flaring, but he makes a point not to take the bait. Instead, his gaze drawn to the child, he asks, waving a hand in his direction, “If you’re so worried about being able to take care of him, you could just give him away. It’s not like this is part of a deal you made—you’re not obligated to keep him.”

“I already _told_ you, I tried that,” Remus huffs with a roll of his eyes. “None of the humans were good enough—and I already killed his parents, so that’s not an option anymore.”

“How are we defining ‘good enough,’ exactly?”

“Like, ‘wouldn’t throw him to the wolves’ kind of good enough.”

Roman winces. “I didn’t realize the humans were getting that bad.”

Remus scoffs, another escaping him as he fixes his brother with a knowing look. “They’re _always_ that bad. You just have your—your nice, shiny, happy Summer blinders on whenever you talk to one.”

“I do n—” Roman falters, glaring at the ground. “I am _not_ blind when it comes to the nature of humans.” 

“So you just choose not to see it, then?”

Roman hesitates. “I…prefer looking at the positives,” he decides.

“That’s a yes.”

“It is _not_ a ‘yes.’”

“Oh, sweetheart, that is _absolutely_ a ‘yes.’” Remus startles suddenly when he feels a hand grab the front of his shirt, the fae looking down to find the babe holding onto him, small whimpers petering out into quiet cooing. He stills, his expression doing…something. Something he can’t quite identify.

Roman snorts from where he stands, and Remus looks up, confused, only to feel his face flush at the amused smile on his brother’s face.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Roman replies innocently, “just taking in this new side of you, that’s all.”

Remus grimaces at that, mood souring at the words. With a hum, he sets the kid gently—gently, _gently_ , since when is he ever _gentle_ —into their cradle-which-is-more-log-than-it-is-cradle, standing and dusting himself off. “Well,” he mutters, “guess you better enjoy it while it lasts.”

Confusion clouds his brother’s face, “I thought you said you haven’t found any human parents for him?”

Remus shakes his head. “No—I mean, not yet, but that could always change. But…” he scratches at his arms, his skin crawling as he forces out his next words, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t find another fae who could take care of him.”

Roman blinks at him, slow and deliberate. He looks between him and the sleeping boy, his frown returning, “You’re considering giving him up to another fae?”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” Remus snaps, throwing his arms up in the air. Faintly, he registers the fact that he’s broken skin, his nails bloodied from scratching, but he can’t find it in him to care. “I—I don’t know a thing about raising spawns, let alone humans, and I’m well aware of the fact I’m reckless. There’s no telling what would happen to him if he stayed with me.” He looks at his nails, picking at them as he lowers his voice. “Surely…surely someone else would be better suited for the job.”

“A fae could just as easily harm him as a human,” Roman reminds him, though his tone is light, almost pitiful, something Remus doesn’t care for at all. “After all, he’s just a human—most would just see him as a pet, or a toy. Maybe even food, though I haven’t heard about something like in the past, what, centuries?”

“Then I wouldn’t give him to _those_ fae. I’m not _stupid_ ; I’d make sure he was safe.”

“How could you be sure?”

Remus’ stomach feels like it’s been tied up in knots. He feels a retort bloom and die on his tongue, his worries mixed with the knowledge that his brother is _infuriatingly right_ leaving him speechless for once. Another first for him.

Roman studies him, _really_ studies him, before sighing, leaning forward. “Look, I’m not—I’m not trying to be mean,” he says, nodding in the direction of the cradle. “But you and I both know that this…this isn’t the same as an orphaned sapling needing a parent. He’s a _human_ , and even if he’s a child, that—well, not everybody cares about that. Hell, I can’t think of anyone in _your_ court who would so much as look at him.”

“I did,” Remus says on autopilot, swaying on his feet.

Roman hums. “Well, besides you, then.”

“Are you sure I couldn’t find someone?” Remus asks him. “A Spring, maybe? Springs like human children, right?”

“Not to care for them, no. And he’s too young for dancing, so I don’t think they’d find him enticing.”

“Wh—” Remus fidgets, eyes darting this way and that as he tries to put his racing thoughts into a sentence, “What about a Summer?”

Roman considers, longer than before, slowly shaking his head. “Not unless it was a deal or switching him for a changeling—and both of those things would’ve been with his parents.”

Remus makes a sound that can only be described as primal. He sits down—collapses, almost, so fast Roman is halfway across the clearing to catch him until he realizes that Remus is fine.

Well, as fine as he can be, anyway.

Remus runs a hand down his face, eerily still, quiet, his eyebrows pulled together and eyes clouded, staring at nothing at all. “…Would you?”

Roman startles, “What?”

“Would you take care of him? If I asked?”

Roman only flinches a little when his brother looks up at him. Only a little. “I… _are_ you asking me to?”

Remus doesn’t answer for some time—and when he does, his voice is the quietest it’s ever been. “I don’t know. But I think…I think, if I was, I’d mean it. I trust you.”

Roman’s blood freezes, the heat receding from his body in an instant. Again, his gaze is drawn to the cradle, his original hesitation melting into something…well, not soft, but something close to it. He sighs.

“Honestly, I don’t think I could do that in good conscience.”

Remus hums. He doesn’t seem to hear him; or, if he does, he doesn’t have the energy to respond.

Roman either doesn’t care or doesn’t have the heart to mention it, taking a seat next to him and glancing up at the sky. He keeps talking.

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to, for starters, which I think automatically disqualifies me. But even if I did, you—Remus, you’re so attached, I don’t think I could bring myself to take him in regardless. I don’t want to hurt you like that.”

“I’m not att—” the words cut off with an audible click, Remus’ jaw snapping shut. He startles, hand coming up to press curiously at his jawline.

Roman gives him a look, unimpressed. “Yeah,” he deadpans, “totally attached.” Then, looking back up at the sky, he adds, unconcerned, “but I don’t think that’s a bad thing. If anything, it’s really, really good, and I’m so, so happy for you. Like, a ridiculous amount of happy for you. Even if you’re being a complete pain in the ass about this because you don’t want to admit to yourself that you care about him.”

“I don—” Pause. “It’s not th—” Pause. “…I just want him to be _safe_. That’s all.”

“I know you do,” Roman rolls his eyes, wrapping a comforting arm around the other’s shoulders. “I’m just telling you that I think you’re overthinking this. Actually, I _know_ you’re overthinking this, because out of anyone else in this forest I think the safest place he could be is with someone who cares about him, and you do. Very much so, from the looks of it.”

“I’m not,” Remus mumbles, but he still sags, still sinks into the hold, looking all the more fragile because of it. “I’m not—I’m not good for him, Ro.”

“I think I’d have to disagree with that one, Dukey.”

“But—but I don’t know what to _do_.”

Roman hums. “I could help,” he offers, slowly, “if that—I mean, I still won’t take him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help. If you’d want that, that is.”

Remus considers this. Hesitates.

And then, softly, he says, voice hoarse and exhausted, “Okay.”

Roman practically glows.

And for the first time since finding the human, Remus allows himself to think that things might end well for them both.

Even if such a thing will be put to the test soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't know if changelings have a specific court or not. Also don't know what kind of magic the fae are capable of (I know about the pranks they can get up to but not necessarily what would happen if they wanted to say, kill someone) so my apologies if I've gotten anything wrong in that regard!


	3. Lashing Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The child grows, and Remus meets another human who needs his help. Things don't end quite like he wants them to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where the child abuse tag applies! There's also attempted child murder and an actual murder (of the abuser), as well as yet another mention of fae eating children (though again, no children are eaten!) so be mindful of all that and be safe!

He calls the boy Birch, to the exasperation of his brother.

“You can’t just call him a _tree_ ,” Roman argues, more than once, something that only makes the smug grin on Remus’ face widen every time.

“I do believe you’ll find that I can, and will, call him a tree.”

“Surely he deserves a more respectable name. One with thought and heart put into it. One that would be more suited for him considering it’s going to be what holds power over him, and—” Roman makes a wide gesture with his arms, waving to the rest of the forest around them even though Remus is sure he’s being more general, “—and is connected to the very thing that makes him _him_.”

Remus giggles, merely shoving the other aside. “Oh, relax! I’m not naming him, I’m just calling him something until he’s older. It’s not like it matters any.”

Roman falters at that, narrowing his eyes. “But—but a name, he needs a _name_ , Remus, that’s not—these things aren’t _temporary_ —”

“I quite like the idea of giving him the ability to choose,” he cuts in, rolling his eyes. Then, a bit quieter, he adds, “Not to mention it’d feel a bit…unfair, to name him. I mean, it wouldn’t do him much good if he had to listen to every command I gave him just because I gave him his name, considering his caregiver isn’t actually human.”

“I didn’t think you would put so much care into something like that.”

Remus shrugs. “Yeah, well, I meant it when I said safe. And I’m not naïve to my…messier habits. The last thing we need is him going through with some thoughtless dare because I don’t think before I open my mouth.”

“How kind of you,” Roman says airily, and Remus can’t tell if he’s being serious or if he’s a step away from checking him for a fever.

“Of course! Nothing but the best for my—” he falters on the word “kid,” on “son,” because it’s too official and binding and still doesn’t feel quite real enough for him to admit it, “—charge. And hey, it’s like you said, maybe he wouldn’t like any name I picked out, so…so this works out, I think.” His grin turns mischievous, “Besides, I _was_ going to call him Leaf. Be happy one of your Spring friends gave me some suggestions.”

Roman looks absolutely scandalized, “ _Leaf_?”

“I found him in a leaf pile, it only makes sense. It’d even mean something—your big thing is it being meaningful, right? Well, there you go! Our first meeting and everything!”

“I cannot _believe_ —Leaf, of all things—”

“It’d be cute.”

“ _That is not the point_!”

Remus laughs, loud and unrestrained, even as Roman reaches over and swats at him.

But Roman’s irritation is not enough for him to win the argument, and so, the boy with violet eyes is called Birch. And occasionally Leaf, but only as a joke.

Judging by the looks the baby sends his way whenever he says the nickname, Roman isn’t alone in his distaste for it.

Oh, well. All the more fun for him.

Autumn turns to winter, then winter to spring, and then spring to summer and autumn again until several rotations have passed and Remus finds himself with a human _toddler_ instead of a human _baby_ , one with a full head of hair and a mouth full of teeth that has gotten dangerously close to biting him on several occasions.

It’s startling, he thinks, how fast he’s grown. Which is stupid, because Remus knows that humans grow much faster than fae, even in faerieland where time doesn’t work the same and their food and drink slow the effects of aging; but it still knocks the wind out of him whenever he sees the kid stumbling around and hear him talking— _talking!_ —with actual words instead of gibberish.

He certainly feels _some_ kind of way about it, but he doesn’t try to decipher the feeling whenever it comes on.

(Mostly because of the nausea and the sinking, empty hole that only digs its way deeper into his stomach, and the fact he’s woken up in the middle of the night more times than he can count scrambling to find the kid and make sure he’s still there and not dead in a ditch somewhere. But hey, that’s not anyone else’s business.)

He’s not the only one who notices. He knows, has known from the moment he’d brought the kid home, that the other fae have an interest in the boy, whether curious or calculatingly malicious or both. He’d made a point of nipping anything dangerous in the bud the moment he caught wind of it, but the problem is that he’s not always aware of the others’ intentions. After all, it’s not just humans that fae hide their intentions from, but other fae, too—and weaknesses as obvious as Remus’ come with their share of mixed reactions.

Not that he cares that much of what the others think or what they want from him. Well, not unless it’s Roman, but Roman is just as attached to the kid as he is at this point, so he can’t say he’s worried about him.

Still, it would be nice to be around other fae besides his brother without having to hear them whisper among themselves about whether or not Birch is dead, or left somewhere to rot, or _maybe he’s eaten him, that’s the brother that’s a bit wild isn’t it? Wouldn’t put it past him_ —

It’s these whispers and rumors that lead to now, Remus walking through the woods with Birch in tow, the boy swinging around a twig as they walk. Not to anywhere in particular, as evident by their constant twists and turns, but still. Walking.

“Birch,” Remus sighs when he feels another whack against his ankle, though the word isn’t so much scolding as it is amused.

“’Pologies,” comes the mumbled response, and the whacking stops, at least for the time being. He can still feel the air behind him swishing back and forth as Birch continues swinging the stick around, albeit not as much as before.

Remus hums. “Getting tired?” he asks.

Birch hesitates. “No naps,” he says sternly.

“So yes.”

“ _No_ nap!”

Remus looks back at him, trying not to let his heart explode in his chest from the adorable glare he finds staring back at him and just barely succeeding. “I could just carry you, y’know,” he tells him, tone light and teasing. “No reason to let ya be dead on your feet.”

The human considers this, lowering his stick as he messes with his sleeve, his gaze lowering to the ground.

“Umm…okay. Jus’cause I don’ wann dead feet.”

“Of course you don’t! You’re a smart human, and smart humans don’t get dead feet,” Remus chuckles, collecting the boy into his arms and swinging him around, careful not to get poked by the stick in his hand. The other giggles, the fae’s grin widening at the sound.

And then he hears a wail, and Remus’ smile falls immediately.

“Wh— _Birch_ —?”

He pulls back to look the boy over—the boy who is _decidedly silent_ besides the sound of his own breathing—who gives him a questioning glance, eyes half-lidded as he leans against the fae’s chest.

Remus holds him a bit tighter, eyebrows furrowed together and mouth twisting into a frown, the fae wondering if maybe he’d imagined it.

And then another wail pierces the air, Birch flinching in his arms as the fae remains rooted firmly to the spot, a familiar lung-crushing weight hitting him in the chest.

Remus’ breath catches in his throat, his eyes burning with tears that have no business forming.

_No._

_No, not again, why is this happening_ again _, why—_ why _—_

Another cry, this time closer to a scream than a sob, and Remus moves, almost as though he were being pulled along by a leash, stumbling in the direction of the shrill voice.

He finds the source, though the scene in front of him is more than enough to make his blood boil. A tall man holding what looks like a gun—a gun, _stars_ , what the _hell_ —looms over a small, cowering form, a young boy (older than Birch but still a far cry from full-grown) covered in so many scars Remus isn’t sure any part of him is unscathed. There’s shouting, though Remus can’t make out much from the man’s spewing except for _miserable excuse_ and _ungrateful_ and _waste of space_ , which is honestly more than enough for him to get the gist but still makes him want to break something regardless.

The boy glares at the man with red-rimmed eyes, defiant, angry, and he yells something—quick and sharp like a striking snake, _you’re not gonna do it and you and I both know it_ —and Remus recognizes it as a taunt but either the man doesn’t or he just doesn’t care, aiming the gun in the boy’s face—

_No,_ no _, don’t you fucking **dare** —_

Remus doesn’t even realize he’s done anything until he stands over the man crumpled up on the ground, gun warped beyond recognition underneath already-rotting wood at his side, the man’s body sunken in and mangled among the dirt and leaves.

The boy lets out a startled shout, scrambling back until his back hits a tree, looking up at the fae with an expression that’s surprisingly guarded for someone his age.

Which actually might not be so surprising, considering the circumstances.

Birch shakes in his arms, and Remus has enough of a mind to turn his head away before he gets a good look, still numb from the neck down. He forces himself to take a breath.

“No better than fucking _root rot_ ,” he mutters, shaking his head. Then, turning to the boy lying on the ground, he asks, the last of his anger melting away, “Are you alright?”

The human in question looks between the fae to the body on the ground, then to the toddler held in his arms, both wary and confused. Slowly, he nods.

“Good,” Remus smiles at him, remembering a tad too late that the sight of his very sharp, very plentiful teeth might startle him, doing his best to shrink it down. Stepping forward, his back facing the body so that Birch stops trying to stubbornly look away from his chest, he says, tone conversational, “I apologize if I startled you. It wasn’t my intention—I just really _do not_ take kindly to most of the humans that come through this forest. Particularly ones like _that_.”

The boy nods again, slow, and Remus notices for the first time that the boy’s eyes are the color of gold.

Hm. Interesting.

Remus tilts his head, looking him up and down and wrinkling his nose at the boy’s torn, ill-fitting clothes. “May I have your name?” he asks, though the moment the words leave his mouth his stomach twists itself in knots and his lungs threaten to implode, that same crushing need clawing at his heart. _Protecting_ , he thinks, _it’s just to protect him. That’s all._

Thankfully—or maybe not, who’s to say?—the boy doesn’t rise to the bait, suspicion evident in the way his eyes narrow and he straightens his back. “You may call me Dee.”

“Dee,” Remus tests the name out, slow and deliberate, nodding his head. “Nice name. You may call me Duke.”

A nod, followed by a frown. “What is it you want from me, Duke?”

The question startles a laugh from him, “Jumping straight for my throat, huh?”

“I know of the Fair Folk,” Dee tells him as explanation.

Fair enough. Remus hums, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “You’re a smart boy, Dee. Most don’t know what to do or what to expect from me when we cross paths.”

“I mean no harm when I say that I can hazard a guess as to what to expect,” Dee deadpans, nodding in the direction of the corpse. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

Ah. Right.

“Well…I suppose I don’t want anything _from_ you, specifically.” Which isn’t necessarily a lie, clearly, though it _does_ cause his throat to tighten slightly as the words leave him. Which begs the question on what, exactly, Remus _does_ want, something that is currently escaping him as he watches the boy consider his answer with a kind of carefulness that makes his skin crawl.

“Okay…” Dee climbs to his feet, his arms straight at his sides and head held high. That defiant look from earlier returns, though this time with a touch of nervousness, a kind of apprehension that can only come from not knowing what to expect. He meets Remus’ gaze, voice barely wavering as he speaks. “Do you plan to do something _to_ me, then?”

Remus hesitates. “Not really,” he says, “not unless you asked me to, anyway.”

Dee narrows his eyes.

He sighs. _Come on, Remus,_ he thinks, _figure something out so this shitshow can end_. “My intent isn’t to harm, if that’s what’s got you all worked up.”

“Harm in what way?”

“What— _any_ way.” Remus waves a hand in the air, “I wouldn’t have stepped in otherwise.”

“Are you talking about just _now_ ,” Dee continues, voice growing steadier with every word, “or will I have to look forward to you hurting me _later_?”

_Stars, what_ happened _to this kid?_ “I’m not going to harm you _at all_. At least, intentionally—I can’t say I won’t fuck up something, but I’m not going to do anything to you that’s purposefully harmful.”

Dee hesitates, gaze piercing, searching. And then he glances down at the toddler held in Remus’ arms, some of the tension in his shoulders melting away. He sighs.

“Fine,” he mutters, rubbing at his arms and looking away, “fine. I suppose you wouldn’t be able to find any loopholes with that. Just—if that’s not what you want, then what _do_ you want? I have nothing to offer.”

Something about that doesn’t sit well with him, but Remus decides to ignore it for now. Instead, he says, stepping forward, “I’m not looking for a deal.”

Dee rolls his eyes, “Right, because fae do everything for _free_ —”

“I did _not_ say I wanted nothing. Just that I wasn’t looking for a deal.”

“ _Then what is it that you want so I can go?_ ”

Remus startles, the air around him turning bitterly cold. Birch curls up further into is chest, shivering, and he does his best to cover him up so that he doesn’t freeze.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, feeling the numbness from earlier spread across his skin with newfound fervor, ice spreading along his fingertips. “To leave?”

Dee shrinks but doesn’t back down, casting another glance towards the body lying on the ground and nodding.

And Remus…Remus _wants_ to argue. He does, that same need wiggling in the back of his head screaming at him to _keep him safe_ getting louder and louder.

But he can’t. And he doesn’t.

Instead, taking a step back, adjusting his hold on the boy in his arms, he says, feeling heavier than before, “Alright. You may leave. But if you ever want to come back—” _You could stay_ remains bitten between his teeth, the admission too desperate to let slip, “—just know I’ll be watching.”

Dee nods, “Okay”—and the relief is obvious in the way his shoulders sag and the look in his eyes dissipates into exhaustion, the kid looking like he’s one step away from falling over. It makes Remus’ chest hurt.

Mostly because Remus can’t help but wonder if he’s partially to blame.

_All the more reason to leave_ , he thinks bitterly.

So, taking a step back, casting a final glance in Dee’s direction, he murmurs, smile growing sharp despite his attempt at being friendly, “Take care.”

And just as quickly as they’d appeared, Remus and Birch are gone, leaving nothing behind but a gentle breeze and the cold, limp body slowly being claimed by the dirt.

They don’t expect to see the boy with golden eyes ever again.

(They do anyway.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I did name Virgil "Birch" in this because it sounds similar to Virge, what of it? 
> 
> Also, Birch during this chapter really is just a "I sleep through your nonsense" mood and I'm here for it.


	4. Finding Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dee misunderstands Remus' motives and Remus finally understands what's been driving him all this time.

Dee comes back to the forest. He comes back, and Remus, bound by his word, watches.

At first, he thinks the human has a purpose, coming back here like he is, his strides confident and reassured as he makes his way through the foliage. What that purpose is, Remus can’t place; he tries to puzzle it out, to make sense of the twists and turns the boy takes throughout the forest, but despite his best efforts no amount of following gets him any closer to figuring it out. He’s stuck just watching, irritation itching at the back of his skull as the boy comes back day after day, staying out later and later without anything to show for it.

And then Remus realizes that perhaps Dee doesn’t have a purpose at all and is just…wandering.

In fact, after several weeks have passed and Dee continues to take random turns and walk down different paths, Remus is _convinced_ Dee has no idea what he’s doing, let alone where he’s going.

The confidence isn’t a sign that Dee has something to do. It’s just for show—an act.

That just leaves him with the question of who, then, the act is for.

(He has a sinking suspicion the answer might be him—and, an even worse suspicion, the other fae.

(He does his best not to let it get to him.)

Remus thinks about approaching, of talking to the boy to see what’s causing the stricken look in his eyes and the tension in his jaw. To see just why he keeps returning when nothing seems to be keeping him here.

He doesn’t.

Not yet, anyway.

As it turns out, he doesn’t have to be the one to approach first. Namely because Dee beats him to it.

“You know, for a Good Neighbor, you are awfully difficult to find.”

Remus startles, nearly falling from the tree he’d been lounging in. He looks down to find the boy scowling up at him, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, looking seconds away from scolding him. Which is almost funny if not for the fact Remus _does_ feel like he’s done something wrong, even if he can’t place what, exactly, he’s done wrong.

“I wouldn’t say I’m hard to find,” Remus tells him, grinning despite his rising nerves. “Though I _can_ say that you’re awfully careless, for a human. Rumor has it you’ve been making plenty of visits around here.”

“I was looking for something.”

“And that ‘something’ happened to be little old me?” Remus places a hand to his chest, feigning shock. “Truly, I’m flattered.”

“I was looking to _tie up loose ends_ ,” the boy tells him simply. “We have unfinished business.”

 _That_ gets Remus’ attention. “No, we don’t?”

A roll of the human’s eyes. A sigh. “I am not an idiot. I know you wanted something from me when you ki—” his eyes widen, gaze suddenly locked on a nearby tree branch instead of the fae, “—when you saved me. Just because you didn’t say anything doesn’t mean I couldn’t see it.”

“Just because you could see that I wanted something doesn’t mean you have to go seeking me out to see what I wanted,” Remus points out, though the words come out a bit choked, the fae finding it a bit harder to breathe. He had meant to make the boy feel _safe_ , not feel _indebted to him_.

Should’ve expected things not to work out the way he wanted them to.

The boy shrugs, unconvinced by his words. “If I didn’t figure it out now, you would just come looking for me later.” Dee looks at him, rocking a little on his toes. “I wanted to save us both the trouble and get it out of the way.”

Remus hums. “I suppose that makes sense,” he settles on, because _are you serious in what world is that even remotely a good idea when I could’ve been literally anyone and could have wanted you **dead** _sounds too harsh. “Though, I will say, that little plan of yours could have ended very badly for you, if you hadn’t found me before now. Many of the fae I know would have no qualms tearing you into itty bitty pieces.”

Dee’s gaze drops, but only for a moment. “I wasn’t worried,” he admits, finally allowing his arms to fall to his sides.

“Oh?” Remus messes with a loose thread of his shirt, voice light and curious, “And why not?”

The human shrugs. “You said you’d watch me.”

The numb ache in his chest returns tenfold. He doesn’t respond.

Dee, for his part, doesn’t mention his silence. Instead, studying the fae with a look that feels all too invasive, he asks, a frown beginning to twist at his lips, “Where’s the kid?”

“With my brother,” he answers automatically, though his voice is noticeably hoarser than before. He clears his throat to cover it up. “Summers run warmer than Autumns. It’s good for him, what with snow on its way and all—I’d hate for the little guy to turn into a little frozen statue just because I’m not great at the whole ‘body-heat-sharing’ thing.”

“I didn’t realize faeries could have siblings,” the boy wonders faintly.

Remus rolls his eyes, “And _I_ didn’t realize humans could be so _rude_.”

A wince. The boy lowers his gaze, rubbing at his arms. “I…didn’t mean to offend. I just don’t know much about the Fair Folk outside of the warnings.”

“And yet you came looking for one.”

Dee falls silent, though Remus notices how his ears tint red and the tension in his jaw worsens.

With a huff, Remus slinks off his tree branch, landing softly in front of the boy. He hesitates when the human scrambles back, expression a mix of apprehensive and a touch too alarmed for Remus’ liking, holding his hands up in surrender. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you—pretty sure I’ve made that clear.”

“That does _not_ mean I should let my guard down,” Dee points out. “You yourself made a point about how it was _oh so dangerous_ of me to be in these woods.”

“Well, yeah, but I’m n—” Remus’ throat closes around the words _I’m not a threat_ , and he panics, trying to reword his thoughts, “I’m not a danger to _you_ , specifically. You have nothing to worry about as far as I’m concerned.”

“So I’ve heard,” Dee hums. “But I’ve been lied to before, and I know Good Neighbors know how to twist the meanings of words to suit their purposes. So, you’ll have to forgive me for being a little wary of such promises.”

Remus’ mouth fills with a sour taste, but he doesn’t argue. He can’t, really, as much as he might want to. Instead, he says, voice shakier than before, “Well, luckily for you, I really do mean it when I say that I want to help you. So again—nothing to worry about.”

“But _why_?” Dee’s voice cracks, the boy’s careful mask slipping just enough for frustration to shine through, his nails digging into his arms. “I haven’t made a deal with you. You are not bound to me. What could possibly lead you to want to help me if not to trick me?”

“You have not,” Remus agrees, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not bound to you. After all, it’s not like I made a deal with a human _baby_ , let alone could trick one, and yet I’ve taken care of one for—hell, I don’t even know how many human years it’s been now.”

Dee stares at him. “…You mean that the baby from before wasn’t from a deal?” he asks slowly.

Remus shakes his head. “Nope,” he replies, grinning wide, “definitely not. I’m not one to really make deals with humans, in fact—I tend to lose my patience rather quickly, especially with how common it is for humans to go back on their word. Seems like a waste of time to me.”

He watches a shiver run through the other’s frame, Dee not quite meeting him in the eyes. The boy frowns. “But if he’s not part of a deal, then—then why do you have him? What do you want from _me_?”

And Remus hesitates.

It’s a question he’s asked himself countless times before. A question he’s long since squashed down whenever it rears its ugly head, unwilling to deal with the confusion and anger and fear it brings with it. It’s something that’s always eluded him, even now, the fae so sure of everything that his reasoning is _not_ but never sure what exactly led him to the situation he’s found himself in now.

But, looking at the human in front of him now, suspicious and confused and scared, he finds the words that have escaped him for years, startling him the moment they leave his mouth.

“I want a family.”

The confusion in Dee’s face gives way to surprise, and though his expression is still guarded Remus sees some of the apprehension melt away into something more…contemplative. Vulnerable.

It takes Dee a moment to respond, but when he does, his voice comes out soft and small, more hopeful than the fae’s ever heard.

“I think…I think I want that, too. Eventually.”

Remus can’t help but grin. For the first time since first meeting him, Remus feels the ache in his chest recede—not fully gone yet, but getting there.

“I think we can work with that,” he decides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait! Chapter didn't want to cooperate, plus stress and health problems didn't help matters any. I'm pretty sure these last two chapters are going to be pure fluff, so get ready for that! Enjoy!


	5. Testing Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dee and Remus hang out, and as they do, something clicks into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a brief mention of a detached eye but it's not graphic. It's mentioned in the section starting with "Dee sits quietly beside him" and ending with "but it's a start", so if you want to skip that continue reading at the "He hasn't grown much since I last saw him" line!

Remus and Dee meet many times in the forest. It becomes almost a daily occurrence, Remus leaving the comfort of the faerie realm and Dee leaving the human village to meet at their spot, a clearing surrounded by a thick barrier of trees and bushes. Some visits are short, others stretching on for hours, but regardless they’re not nearly enough to quell the pain Remus feels nestled deep within him, eating away at his very core, only worsening every time he has to tell the other goodbye and watch him make the trek back to his village. They must not be long enough for Dee, either, who looks more and more disappointed when he realizes he has to leave.

Remus wants to tell him that he doesn’t have to leave, but he knows better than to do so. Dee knows that he can stay—and he’ll stay when he decides he’s ready.

So they visit, and they talk, and little by little, Remus allows himself to relax, allows that little, needling voice in the back of his head to quiet. _This is enough_ , he tells himself. _This is enough. Give him time._

And all the while, Dee relaxes, only he’s met with a different thought: _This is_ not _enough_.

It takes him a while to figure out why.

Dee sits quietly beside him, picking at a loose thread on his pants, Remus rocking slightly back and forth as he messes with—well, _something_ that’s connected to his shirt, though the boy has no idea what it could be. Dee watches him, attentive and analytical, the usual guarded edge in his eyes nowhere to be found.

“What _is_ that?” he asks, leaning a little closer to get a better look at it.

Remus pauses in his movements, looking between Dee and the object in question. He gestures to it, an eyebrow raised, “This?”

Dee nods.

Remus looks again to the thing on his shirt, humming lightly. “It’s something I use to keep an eye on Birch,” he says, smiling a little. The object moves, then, and Dee gasps when it starts to glow, revealing what looks to be an eye sewn into the fabric. “I mean, he’s with my bro right now, so I’m not _that_ worried, but—”

“Is it like a baby monitor?” Dee asks, suddenly looking—well, not _excited_ , but maybe just very intrigued. Which is definitely _not_ normal for a human, considering Remus is holding what is assumedly an animal’s eye in his hand, at best, but considering Dee’s been around him long enough perhaps he’s just grown desensitized to such things.

Remus blinks at the sudden change, his heart fluttering in his chest. It takes him a moment to remember how to talk again.

“That depends,” he says, “what the hell is a baby monitor?”

“I’ll tell you if you explain how you get _that_ —” Dee points at the eye, “—to show you things.”

“Fair enough.”

And the whole time either of them explain their respective “baby monitors,” Remus can’t help but smile at the way Dee listens to him intently, asking questions and making comments that aren’t anywhere near as guarded and suspicious as they once were. Still nervous, maybe, but calmer, more interested in learning about the fae and fae magic than he is about Remus’ motives (or lack thereof).

It’s not much—but it’s a start.

“He hasn’t grown much since I last saw him.”

“Time works differently in Faerieland,” Remus says, watching as Dee carefully readjusts Birch in his arms. They sit underneath the reaching branches of a tree, its leaves blocking the obnoxious rays of sunlight shining down on them. He smiles, leaning forward as Birch messes with the buttons on Dee’s shirt, more curious than anything else. “Aging’s a lot slower there.”

“Just for humans?” Dee asks, briefly looking up from Birch’s arguably-adorable frown to meet the fae’s gaze. Something about the way he says it feels off, almost like he’s examining Remus under a microscope.

Remus responds with a shrug, leaning back against the tree trunk, “Eh, it depends where in Faerieland you’re at. Some places effect just humans, others just fae—but usually, it’s both. If you really want to know, though, my brother and I live where everybody’s aging is slower, at least when compared to the mortal realm.”

Dee seems to accept this, turning back to Birch’s reaching hands. He pushes them away lightly. “You’re very grabby,” he accuses the toddler, looking genuinely offended by Birch’s response, that being sticking his tongue out at him.

“You have weird shirts,” Birch informs him, which only makes the offended look on the boy’s face worsen.

“Wh—no I don’t! _You’re_ the one wearing faery clothes!”

“Mine don’t have weird things on ’em,” Birch huffs, batting again at the other’s buttons. “Yours have eyes!”

Dee’s ears tint red, “They’re not _eyes_! They’re _buttons_!”

“B’tt’ns are weird.”

“Says the one wearing flowers.”

“I like flowers! They’re pretty—you’re jus’ boring.”

Dee gasps, “I am not _boring_!”

“Yeah-huh!”

“Nu-uh!”

Remus grins as the two continue going back and forth, watching between them with amusement practically radiating off of him.

_This_ , he thinks, _this is what makes it all worth it._

“…Oh, no,” Roman groans dramatically, leaning heavily on Remus’ shoulders, “you got another one.”

Dee startles at the strange fae standing in front of him, frozen still, looking between them warily. He doesn’t speak, though Remus doesn’t know if it’s by choice or not.

“As always, your observation skills are through the roof,” Remus responds dryly, rolling his eyes. Shoving his brother off of his shoulders, setting the squirming Birch down on the ground so he can run around, he says, turning to Dee, “apologies for being late. My brother has a habit of making himself into a pest.”

Dee opens his mouth to speak, but he’s cut off before he can get a word out, an offended gasp coming from the other brother.

“I do _not_!” Roman huffs, crossing his arms. “If anyone is the pest here, it’s _you_ , with your track record of getting yourself into messes.”

“Not a pest,” Birch agrees, scrunching up his nose. “Bugs’re gross.”

“Birch, you’re supposed to back me up here,” Remus half-whines, half-giggles, ruffling the toddler’s hair and grinning at the resulting squeal.

Birch wiggles away from him, hiding behind Dee’s legs and sticking his tongue out, Dee still frozen in place as the events unfold around him. “No backs _or_ bugs.”

“Brat.”

“…Bats okay.”

Remus pinches the bridge of his nose, “ _No_ —"

Roman’s act finally breaks, and he laughs, the sound seeming to shake Dee out of his fear enough to jump. The movement must remind the fae that the boy is standing there, a brilliant—and very obviously _not human_ —smile spreading across Roman’s face. “Well, hello there,” he says, cheerful and bright. “Apologies, I should have introduced myself sooner, how awfully rude of me—you may call me Princey. Might I have your name?”

Dee takes a hesitant step away, fidgeting with his hands. He doesn’t quite look up to meet the other’s eyes as he answers him, gaze settling somewhere at Roman’s chest.

“…You may call me Dee.”

Roman nods. “It is nice to meet you,” he tells him. Then, grinning, he asks, “Would you like to dance?”

Dee looks alarmed, looking between the two brothers like he wants more than anything to bolt. Birch, on the other hand, looks decidedly uninterested in the idea of dancing, flopping down on the ground and throwing leaves up in the air, giggling to himself as he does so.

Remus hums, looking between the startled human and his brother as he bounces on his toes. “You’re good,” he tells him. “Believe me, my bro’s safe—Birch’s danced with him and me before and nothing’s happened. And besides, he wouldn’t do anything to upset me.”

The _and hurting you would definitely upset me_ goes unsaid.

So, all too nervous and a bit curious, Dee nods, rubbing idly at his arm. “Alright,” he murmurs. “Though I will admit, I am not…great, when it comes to dancing.”

“Most humans aren’t,” Roman says, chuckling when the boy bristles. He takes him by the hand and leads him a couple steps away, readying for a spin. “But you’ll learn.”

“That’s a lot of trouble to go to,” Dee tells him, “teaching a human how to dance when you think they’re so bad at it.”

Roman glances over to Remus, confusion evident on his face. “Well, your my brother’s, so I don’t see why I wouldn’t offer my services now and then,” he says after a while.

Dee hums, looking at where Roman’s hand holds onto his. “I suppose that makes sense,” he settles on.

Something warm and comforting in Remus’ chest blooms.

Remus doesn’t expect it when it happens. But then again, has anything in the past however many years been anything he’s expected?

They’re alone, this time, standing in the grass—a dancing lesson, because Roman had made the comment once to Dee that Summers were better dancers than Autumns and Remus had absolutely _flipped shit_ , which had led to Dee suggesting Remus and Roman _both_ teach him how to dance, to the begrudging acceptance of both fae. Remus can tell something’s wrong, given how quiet Dee is and how short and clipped his responses are, but he doesn’t press, doesn’t dare to, focused instead on the lesson.

Well, for a while, anyway, until it’s been over an hour and Dee continues to retreat more and more into himself, looking alarmingly more like the boy Remus had met that first day instead of the boy he’s gotten to know.

Sighing, Remus pulls away, looking down at the boy with his hands on his hips. “Alright,” he mutters, “what’s going on with you?”

Dee blinks, looking at him like as though he’d only just heard his voice, “What?”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Remus huffs, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been acting weird all day. Did something happen with the humans? If it is the humans, I can pay them a visit. I’ll put them in their places _real_ quick.”

Dee winces, shaking his head. He frowns. “I…no,” he tells him, “no, it’s—it’s not a human thing. I’m just…thinking.”

“Well, that’s dangerous, coming from you.”

Dee glares but doesn’t argue. Instead, he looks…almost _small_ , nervous, the boy messing with his sleeves as he looks down. “Actually, I wanted to tell you something. Important, I mean.”

Remus does _not_ like that sound of that. He nods, serious and firm. “Alright, well—out with it. Better now than later.”

Dee nods, a little less certain that Remus had been, before he sighs, the familiar mask of confidence slipping into place. He meets his gaze.

“My name is Janus.”

And that.

That is _not_ what he had been expecting, nor something he’d _wanted_.

Remus feels like he’s been kicked in the ribs and then dumped into ice water, magic crawling along his skin like raindrops spreading out after hitting the ground. He can barely force a word out as he stumbles back, voice strained and panicked, “ _What_?”

Janus—not “the boy,” not Dee, _Janus_ —looks unmistakably tense, yet behind the panic in his eyes and the slight tremoring of his hands Remus notes a cool resolve, the child looking at him with something that’s not quite determined, but close enough. “My name,” he replies calmly. “It’s Janus.”

Remus sucks in a breath, swaying a little on his feet. He tries, desperately, to get his lungs to cooperate so that he can speak. “I—are you—have you _lost your mind_ —”

“Not quite,” Janus tells him, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “More like…well, I’m testing you, I guess.”

Remus stills. “ _Testing_ me?” he echoes.

Janus nods. He steps forward, his hair hanging in his face and golden eyes reflecting the sunlight. “You told me you wanted a family,” he starts, “but you can’t have a family without trust. And…and I trust you enough not to hurt me. So, you know—might as well give it to you.”

“This is a _lot_ more than just _not hurting you_ ,” Remus croaks, because it _is_ a lot more than that. It’s a matter of power, of _ownership_ , of reaching down into the very core of a person and robbing them of their choices and autonomy. And maybe, _maybe_ if it were some other human, Remus wouldn’t care, wouldn’t even give it a second _thought_ , but—

But he _does_ care. He cares so much it hurts.

And this…this is just too _much_.

“It doesn’t have to be more than that so long as you don’t overthink it,” Janus counters. Then, rocking a little on his feet, he says, voice wavering, “Besides, you would’ve ended up with it eventually, if we’re going to live together and all. Family members have to know each other’s names.”

Remus’ eyes well up with tears. Swallowing, heart seemingly pounding against his throat, he asks, hoarse and a bit faint, “Is _that_ what this is about?”

“Isn’t this what it’s _always_ been about?”

“But are you _sure_?” Remus doesn’t even bother covering the shrill tinge of his voice, his eyes wild as he gestures wildly at the air. “Because if you _aren’t_ , it’s not something you can just go back on. I can’t just undo this once you do it; you’d be stuck with me until the day you _died_.”

“I’m more sure about this than I have been anything else in my life,” Janus says, almost as a joke, though Remus hears the sincerity in his voice nonetheless.

And Remus, he—he doesn’t know what to think about that.

Remus hates this, the way panic and fear seeps into his nerves and deep within his bones until he wonders if he’s going to either pass out or explode from all the nervous energy bouncing around in his head. He wants to run, to scream, to break something, wants to go and wreak havoc so that he doesn’t feel so on edge, but he can’t. Not now, not with _this_ happening.

Because this…this is what he wanted, wasn’t it? This is what he tried so hard for, what he wanted to achieve, what he wanted to _have_. Janus’ trust is everything he could ever want and more.

So why does he hesitate now?

Swallowing, eyes searching the child’s face, Remus forces himself to relax, standing straighter in the clearing. He sighs. “Alright,” he murmurs, “alright, if you’re really sure of this.”

“Glad we’re both in agreement on my own decision making,” Janus responds dryly.

“Believe me, I’m pretty sure we are anything but in agreement,” Remus mutters. Then, voice growing softer, he adds, “I…appreciate this, though. Trusting me, I mean.”

“Yeah, well,” Janus shrugs, rolling his eyes, “you _did_ make it difficult to hate you, so. There’s that.”

“Yeah.”

A pause. Janus messes with his sleeve, suddenly looking as anxious and uncomfortable as Remus _feels_. “So…I didn’t exactly finish introducing myself, if that matters any.”

“You don’t have to,” the fae tells him immediately.

“I know. I want to.”

Remus hesitates a moment longer, searching, waiting, watching for any signs of doubt.

And then he sighs, expression going serious as he takes a step forward.

“Give me your name, child.”

Janus nods, slow and deliberate. “My name is Janus Damien Wells,” he tells him, clear and succinct. Then, shoulders hunched, he says, sounding _worlds_ tired than he had before, “and I would really like to go home now, if that’s alright with you.”

Remus can’t help but laugh, nervous and relieved all at once, the sound usually unsettling for humans but Janus doesn’t react, at least outwardly. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “yeah, me too.” He holds out his hand then, that clawing ache in his chest finally subsiding. “Let’s go home, Janus.”

It’s not a command. If anything, it’s more of a reassurance, a request. A promise.

Janus flinches—which is expected—but smiles anyway, barely faltering in his decision as he takes the fae’s hand.

And, feeling warm and whole and so unbelievably _right_ , Remus smiles and pulls him forward, leading him further into the forest.

Neither of them looks back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remus: I want this kid to trust me.  
> Janus: I trust you.  
> Remus: What the FUCK--
> 
> That really is how this went and I think that's hilarious.


	6. Epilogue: Looking Out (For You, For Them, For Us)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The "after" of "happily ever after."

Seasons pass, the blooming flowers of spring turning into the stifling heat of summer that gives way to the not-quite-dying-but-close-to-it fading of autumn and then to the cold harshness of winter. Years pass on like this, and for once, a sort of peace settles in the forest, comforting and content; something that was once unimaginable but now an actuality.

Humans, who very rarely would wander into the forest unless they were either running from something or causing trouble, start making their way through the forest’s maze of trees, exploring what it has to offer. Some take paths that mysteriously look like they’ve been walked on before, but none question it, too afraid of bringing on the possible wrath of a Good Neighbor and repeating old, tragic stories from the past. This is probably for the best, both for the humans and the fae alike.

Of course, none of them are reckless enough to stay for longer than a day, knowing the stories—but there are others, others that linger, that search, looking for something they can’t quite put their finger on but know they have to have, nonetheless. They are often lonely, melancholic humans, desperate in a way others aren’t, and the fae recognize this and they whisper about a particular fae who acted much in the same way until he found what he needed and wonder aloud if these humans are searching for something similar.

But still, even these lingering humans do not stay in the forest long. Though, some _do_ go missing, despite the warnings and the measures taken to try and avoid such a thing, never to be seen or heard from in the mortal realm again. The remaining humans do not discuss this, though out of fear or respect or perhaps even heartbreak, it’s hard to say.

And so the story goes, where the seasons change and the forest changes and the humans change alongside it, slowly causing a shift in the way things are and the way life is lived. Small, at first—but even the little things grow into something bigger one day.

And, somewhere deep within the land of faeries, a fae holds his children close and runs his fingers through their hair, telling them stories that are both gentle and morbid, because even though things have changed and he has learned to handle those he loves with care that doesn’t mean he’s let go of _all_ things Autumn, and death and dying are things everyone has to learn about eventually. He holds onto a young boy that goes from allowing others to call him “Birch” to a young teen who discovers a poet and names himself “Virgil,” a name that becomes quite the guarded secret by those around him; and he keeps a keen eye on a human with countless masks of calm and a stubborn politeness to him, one who is only known by those in Faerieland as “Dee” because trust is something you build and if there’s one thing he _won’t_ break, it would be that.

It is these three that play and dance and learn and grow, sheltered away from prying eyes and whatever judgments that could possibly come their way, and as they do so they see how far they’ve come and what they have now and think that, though the tale started in a rather bad spot, it’s become something better. Not perfect, but better.

It is years upon years later, when those fateful autumn days have long since passed and much of the old tales and rumors have buried themselves in the ground and given way to new ones, that the humans spin a new story.

They say that, when the leaves fall in autumn and the heat of summer begins to give way to allow the freezing cold of winter to take its place, one might hear children laughing and a lone voice sing of home and family. And it is said that when one hears these sounds of joy and belonging, such things are destined for them in the future.

And perhaps such a thing is just a story told by humans to explain things they can’t quite understand so they can ease their worries and idle curiosities—but, if one were to ask the humans that linger with that nagging feeling that they’re missing something or the fae who occasionally frequent the mortal realm or even a particular Summer who’s brother proudly talks of his human children without a care in the world about who could possibly hear him, one might find that such a tale has more truth to it than one might think.

After all, autumn comes every year.

And every year, the humans that linger find new homes.

And if some of them decide to stay in the mortal world and others decide they want to stay with the Autumn fae and his growing family hidden away in Faerieland, then, well, that’s a decision for them to make, and them alone.

**Author's Note:**

> I've done research on/off for months now on fae but I've been struggling retaining the information so I can't say for sure if this is accurate. Hopefully I improve as things go along. ^^; 
> 
> Also, the amount of chapters in this work might change, depending on how this story develops. I can already tell this story won't cooperate with my original planning so it might end up being a bit longer; we'll just have to wait and see. 
> 
> (Please let me know if any additional tags need to be made!)


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